The Shakespeare Code Novelisation
by Josman
Summary: The Doctor takes Martha on her first trip in the TARDIS, back to 1599, where Shakespeare is busy writing his new play. But mysterious magical creatures are stalking him. Just what interest do they have in Love's Labours Won?
1. Love Never Did Run Smooth

**The Shakespeare Code**

 **This I disclaim: Alas, Doctor Who, I own not. Nor couldst Shakespeare be claimed rightfully mine own.**

 _To be, or not to be, that is the question. Weeelll... More of A question really. Not THE question. Because, well, I mean, there are billions and billions of questions out there, and well, when I say billions, I mean, when you add in the answers, not just the questions, weeelll, you're looking at numbers that are positively astronomical and... for that matter the other question is what you lot are doing on this planet in the first place, and er, did anyone try just pushing this little red button?_ \- Neil Giamen, commenting on David Tennant's Hamlet.

 **Chapter 1: Love Never Did Run Smooth**

Wiggins had many reasons to be excited. While his friends had been down the theatre and the cock fighting pits, he'd spent many evenings spent scribbling with quill and parchment by candlelight, thinking only of the woman of his affections. Now, he finally had the right song with which to woo her. He stood outside her house, playing his lute and singing:

"Her face was like a winter's moon that lights the traveller's way.

Her smile was like a summer bloom that bursts then fades away.

My love is night, my love is day.

My love she is my world."

Just as he'd hoped, he looked up to see Lilith beaming at him from her bedroom window. "Such sweet music shows your blood to be afire. Why wait we on our stale custom for consummation?" She said, beckoning him in, and closing the window.

"Oh yes! Perhaps tonight's the night!" He grinned, hurrying forward. The door swung open before him as though fate was drawing him on. He hurried up the stairs, two at a time, and found her waiting at the curtain leading to her lodgings.

"Would you be bold to enter sir?"

"Oh I would!" He hurried straight past her, and immediately drew up short. Inside, was a darkened room, lined with ugly masks, straw dolls, hideous looking daggers and chains, and live animals, kept here and there. "Lilith, this cannot be the house of one so beautiful. Forgive me, but this is foul."

"Hush my love." She placed a hand, lovingly, on his cheek. "Sad words suit not upon a lovers tongue."

She pulled him in and kissed him deeply. Wiggins was momentarily calmed. But it only lasted until he drew away for air, only to leap back in fright. Her once beautiful face had transformed into a hideous, wrinkled monstrosity. With jagged teeth, yellow eyes, and unkempt, wiry hair. "Oh! Your kiss transformed me. A suitor should meet his parents." She grinned. "Mother Doomfinger!"

Hearing a cackling, he spun round to see a woman, even more hideous than Lilith, where there had been none stood before.

"And mother bloodtide!"

Another such figure appeared, hanging effortlessly from the ceiling.

Wiggins barely had time to process what was happening. All those stories he'd been told about women who would use supernatural forces for malicious ends were true! He'd walked straight into a witch's house! He didn't even have any time to form a fight of flight response, before the witches pounced on him, tearing him apart.

Lilith had a careful look at his guts and smiled. "Soon, at the hour of woven words, we shall rise again, and this fleeting Earth will perish! Bwahahahahahaha!"

* * *

Like Wiggins, Martha too had been presented with a lot to take in at once. Having been transported to the moon in the middle of her lunch break and been saved by this time travelling alien, who called himself the Doctor. And she'd saved him in return. As a result, he'd agreed to take her on a quick trip somewhere. To say her head was full of questions, would overestimate the size of her head.

"But what about jabs?" She said, as she gripped the console while the floor rocked unsteadily beneath her.

"Jabs?" Said the Doctor, as he tried to adjust the manual stabiliser.

"Yeah, like when you go abroad. To protect you from local diseases."

"Oh, you soak up some background radiation when you travel through time. Boosts your immune system. It's convenient like that."

"But how does it travel through time?"

"Oh, let's not take the fun and mystery out of everything." As he continued fiddling with the controls on one panel, he reached for a lever two panels over with his foot. "Hold tight!"

He kicked and the TARDIS almost seemed to somersault as it came to a halt, throwing Martha to the floor. "Blimey!" She said. "Do you have to take a test to fly this thing?"

"Yes, and I failed." He said, pulling on a coat. "Now, make the most of it. Because I promised you one trip, and one trip only. Outside this door, brave new world."

"Where are we?" Martha grinned.

"Take a look."

Martha hurried past him, out the door. Outside, was a narrow cobbled street, lined with wood and straw buildings. People were milling here and there in Tudor dress. "Oh, you are kidding me. You are so kidding me. Oh, my God, we did it. We travelled in time! Where are we? No, sorry. I got to get used to this whole new language. When are we?"

The Doctor pulled her back, a second before a bowlful of human waste fell through the spot she was just standing in. "Somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Sorry about that."

Martha took a look down at the street, which was dotted with small lumps of poo, soaked up by straw and washed into the gutter at the centre of the street. Even more disgustingly, children were playing in it. "I've seen worse. Late night on A and E." She shrugged. The Doctor made his way forward, careful not to tread on anything. Martha followed. "But is it OK though, is it safe? I mean, can we move around?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"It's like in the films. You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race!"

The Doctor frowned. "Tell you what: don't step on any butterflies. What have butterflies ever done to you?"

"But what if I... I don't know... kill my granddad?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning to?"

"No..."

"Well then."

Martha hurried on, looking round excitedly. "And this is London!" So different from her time.

"Yes. London around... 1599."

Something else occurred to Martha. "Hold on. Am I alright. Not going to get carted off as a slave am I?" She looked uncertainly at the locals around her.

"Why would they do that?" Said the Doctor.

"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed."

"I'm not even human. Just walk around as if you own the place. Works for me. Besides, London in 1599, not so different from your time." He pointed to a couple of black women who were walking freely through the street and no one batted an eyelid. The idea of skin colour indicating inferiority hadn't quite filtered through to the British Isles at this time.

As they walked, they passed by a man collecting dung. "Look, you've got recycling." Said the Doctor.

Next, they passed a couple who were chatting, by a water barrel. "Water cooler moment."

At the first junction they came to, a man was preaching passionately with a Bible in the air. "And the world shall be consumed by flame!"

"And global warming." Said the Doctor, before a new idea hit him. "Oh, yes, and entertainment. Popular entertainment for the masses. If I'm right, we're just down the river by Southwark, right next to..." He let the thought hang and grabbed Martha by the hand, leading her through the windy streets, until they reached... "The Globe Theatre! Brand new. Just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe, it's a tetradecagon. Fourteen sides. Containing the man himself."

"Oh you don't mean... Is Shakespeare in there!" Said Martha, struggling to reconcile that Shakespeare, right now, was an actual person, walking around.

"Oh yes!" The Doctor offered her an arm. "Miss Jones, will you accompany me to the theatre?"

"Mr Smith, I would be delighted!"

"You could go home and tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."

"Then I could get sectioned."

* * *

The play on that night, was _Love's Labours Lost_. Now four years old. The richest Londoners were sat in the balconies, surrounding the courtyard. But the Doctor and Martha were right down in the crowds, standing to watch the performers on the stage, which extended right into the centre of them.

And it was all authentic. No one trying to imitate Elizabethan actors. These were the real thing. Complete with all the female parts played by men in dresses ("London never changes." The Doctor muttered.)

As the actors took their final bow, Martha applauded wildly. "Amazing. Simply amazing. Worth putting up with the smell. But where's Shakespeare, I wanna see Shakespeare." She raised her arm. "Author! Author!" Before dropping it suddenly. "Do people shout that? Do they shout author?"

"Author! Author!" A man who'd overheard her shouted. A few around him joined in, followed by those around them. Before long, the whole crowd was chanting it.

"They do now." The Doctor shrugged.

Their cries didn't go unnoticed. The stage door opened and a man stepped through. He looked a lot different to his portraits, but the roar of the crowd and the shear amount of presence he held told them this was the man himself.

Back in the crowd, the Doctor leaned down to Martha. "Genius. He's a genius. The genius. The most human, human there's ever been. Now we're going to hear him speak. Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words." He'd often claimed to have met Shakespeare to impress or confuse beings, but only now had he finally got round to actually hearing from the man in person.

"Ah, shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare shouted, to much laughter.

"Oh well." The Doctor frowned.

"Never meet your heroes." Martha grinned.

"You've got excellent taste, I'll grant you that." Shakespeare said, before pointing to a man near the front. "Oh! That's a wig!"

So focused were the crowds on the great playwright that none of them paid much attention to Lilith, sat in a private section by herself, stroking the doll in her hands.

"Wind the craft of ancient harm.

The time approaches for our charm."

" I know what you're all saying. Loves Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops. Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius."

Lilith recognised the right time and kissed the head of the doll. As expected, Shakespeare stumbled back as though he'd been smacked in the face.

He shook himself for a moment as he thought of what he was going to say. "When? Tomorrow night. The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it _Love's Labours Won_!"

The crowd cheered, Martha clapped along, until she looked to her right and saw that the Doctor looked less pleased. He was clearly deep in thought.

* * *

"I'm no expert or anything, but I've never heard of _Love's Labours Won_." Said Martha, as they filed out.

"Exactly. The lost play. It doesn't exist, only in rumours. It's mentioned in lists of his plays but never ever turns up. And no one knows why." Said the Doctor.

"Do you have a mini disk or something? We could flog it when we get home." Said Martha.

The Doctor seemed to consider the idea for a moment, before discarding it. "No."

"No. That would be bad." Martha agreed. "So how come it disappeared in the first place?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Well... I was just going to give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."

* * *

In one of the more spacious lodging rooms of the Elephant inn, Shakespeare and his two lead actors, Burbage and Kempe, were sat round a table lined with tallow candles, looking over the scripts. Dolly, the land lady, knew they'd be up late into the morning and had decided to help out. She carried in a tray with several tumblers of beer. " Here you go, Will. Drink up. There's enough beer in this lodgings house to sink the Spanish."

"Dolly Bailey, you saved my life." Shakespeare smiled.

"I'll do more than that later." She grinned, before pointing to a corner where Lilith was mopping the floor. "And you, girl, hurry up with your tasks. The talk of gentlemen is best not overheard."

"Yes maam. Sorry." The witch said meekly.

"You must be mad Will." Said Burbage. " _Love's Labours Won_? It's not ready. It's not due till next week."

"You haven't even finished it yet." Kempe added.

"There's just a couple more scenes." Said Shakespeare. "You'll have it in the morning."

At this point, the Doctor knocked on the open door. "Hello! Excuse us for interrupting. It's Mr Shakespeare isn't it?"

Shakespeare rubbed his forehead. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove..." He faltered as Martha appeared behind him, grinning eagerly. "Hey nonny nonny! Come and sit down next to me. You two, get to your sewing costumes. Off you go."

"Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse." Dolly shooed them out.

"Sweet lady." Shakespeare nodded at her, just to let her know he wouldn't forget about her. Then he turned to Martha. "Such unusual clothes. So, fitted."

"Er, verily." Said Martha. "Forsooth. Egads." To which Shakespeare gave her confused looks.

"Don't do that. Realy, don't." Said the Doctor. He pulled out his psychic paper. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS. This is my companion, miss Martha Jones."

Shakespeare frowned. "Interesting that bit of paper. It's blank."

The Doctor grinned. "Oh, that is clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha and Shakespeare gave him quizzical looks, but for entirely opposite reasons. "No, it says right there. Sir Doctor of TARDIS." Martha squinted at the paper.

"And I say blank." Shakespeare wondered if this was some sort of joke.

"Psychic paper. Long story. Blimey it's hard starting over." The Doctor said.

"Psychic?" Said Shakespeare. "Never heard that before and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point, who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"

Martha went wide eyed. "What did you say?"

"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this..."

"Political correctness gone mad!" The Doctor said quickly, knowing Shakespeare was only using the language of his time. "Martha's from a far off land, Freedonia."

"Excuse me!" Announced an angry voice. They all turned to see a man in expensive, well kept clothes stood in the doorway. "Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behaviour! A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed!"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll send it round, first thing." Said Shakespeare.

"I don't work to your scedule. You work to mine." The man snorted. "The script. Now!"

"I can't!"

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled!"

"It's all go around here, isn't it?" Said Martha.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order. If it's the last thing I do, _Love's Labours Won_ will never be played!"

Lilith was listening quietly from the hallway. As the man turned on his heel to leave, she hurried ahead of him, jumped the railing by the stairs and floated down to street level without anyone seeing. Hearing him coming down the stairs, she waited until he neared the bottom, before stepping up and "accidentally" colliding with him. "Oh, sorry, sir. Begging your pardon, sir." She leaned in and slid an arm round his shoulders. "Mind you don't hurt that handsome head of yours." She ran a finger through his hair.

"Hold hard, wanton woman!" He shook her arm away, accidentally taking some hair with it. He looked around and saw that, indeed, no one was looking. "I shall return later." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Lilith hurried over to a quiet corner and attached the hairs to her doll. She opened up a telepathic link with her mothers. "Oh, my mothers. There is one who seeks to stop the performance tomorrow."

"But it must be tomorrow!" Cried Doomfinger.

" _Love's Labours Won_ must be performed." Said Bloodtide.

"Fear not." Said Lilith. "Chant with me."

"Water damps the fiercest flame.

Drowns out boys and girls the same."

She dropped the doll in a bucket of water. Down in the courtyard, the man halted where he was and clutched at his throat, wrenching.

* * *

Martha and the Doctor had decided to have a drink before they left. Shakespeare was telling them about the man, Lynley, and his endless meddling. He'd repeatedly cut funding to the plays, then taken them down when audiences had naturally declined, but never connected those two points.

"Well, I guess that explains _Love's Labours Won_." Said Martha. "I was thinking it would be something more... mysterious than that."

As if on cue, several women screamed from out in the courtyard, followed by cries for help. The three of them hurried that way.

Out in the courtyard, Lynley was very clearly choking, but making very strange noises. He gagged and a stream of water shot out of his mouth. Another followed seconds later.

"Let me through, I'm a Doctor!" He pushed through the ring of onlookers.

"So am I, near enough." Said Martha.

Lilith and her mothers, meanwhile, were still chanting.

"Now to halt the vital part.

Stab the flesh, and stop the heart."

She stuck a pin in the doll's heart. "Eternal sleep is thine." She pulled the head off.

Lynley collapsed, dead. Martha put her ear to his chest, but heard no heartbeat. "Mr Lynley, can you hear me? You're going to be alright. Got to get the heart going." She tried compressing his chest, but still more water shot out. And still his mouth was full of the stuff. "What is that?"

The Doctor looked him over. "I've never seen a death like it. His lungs are full of water. He drowned on land. And then, I don't know, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow."

Lilith listened, curiously, from an upstairs window. Who were these people?

The Doctor stood and got Dolly's attention "Good mistress, this man died from a sudden imbalance of the humours. A rare death, but natural. Call a constable and have him taken away."

"And why are you telling them that?" Said Martha.

"This lot have only just got out of the dark ages. If I tell them the truth, they'll think it was witchcraft."

"And what was it really?"

"Witchcraft."


	2. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Chapter 2: A Rose By Any Other Name**

Lilith had rapidly transported herself back to her lodgings, and now gathered round the cauldron with her mothers.

Doomfinger filled a vial from the mix. "The potion is prepared. Now take it. Magic words for the playwright's fevered mind.

"Shakespeare will release us." Said Bloodtide. "The mind of a genius will unlock the tide of blood."

Lilith smiled. "Upon this night, our work is done. A muse to pen Love's Labours Won."

The three of them cackled together.

* * *

Back in Shakespeare's lodgings, the mood was glum. He'd never particularly liked Lynley, but he wouldn't wish something like this on anyone. His wife and mistress were never going to believe it. The man had died so suddenly, and so strangely.

"I got you a room, Sir Doctor. You and Miss Jones are just across the landing." Said Dolly.

"Poor Lynley." Said Shakespeare. "So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia where a woman can be a doctor?"

Martha's eyebrows narrowed slightly. "Where a woman can do what she wants."

Shakespeare decided to change the subject. "And you Sir Doctor? How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

"I do a lot of reading." The Doctor said simply.

"A trite reply. Yeah, that's what I'd do." Shakespeare smiled, turning back to Martha. "And you? You look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me."

Martha sighed. "I think we should say goodnight."

"I must work. I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours."

"All the world's a stage."

Shakespeare pondered. "That's good. I might use that."

"Goodnight Mr Shakespeare." The Doctor left.

He crossed the landing to a smaller room, where Martha was surveying everything with a candle. A chair by the door, a bed with woollen blankets, a rough oak cupboard, a copper chamber pot and a bowl of water on a shelf. "Not exactly five star is it?" She said.

"Oh, it'll do. I've seen worse." The Doctor shrugged.

Martha patted herself down. "I haven't even got a toothbrush."

The Doctor looked at the pumice stone which lay next to the water bowl and quickly decided against it. Instead, he pulled a toothbrush from his pocket and handed it to her. "The handle contains Venusian Spearmint."

Martha brushed her teeth then took a look at the bed, which was barely single sized. "So, who's goanna go where? There's only one bed."

The Doctor shifted to lie on the very edge. "We'll manage, come on." He said, patting the far edge.

As the Doctor, continued staring into space, Martha tried to make conversation. "So magic and stuff? That's a bit of a surprise. A bit _Harry Potter_."

"Wait till you read book 7." The Doctor smirked. "I cried."

"But is it all real though? I mean witches and black magic. Is it all real?"

"Course it isn't!" The Doctor chuckled.

"Give me a break, I've only just started believing in time travel."

"Looks like witchcraft but it isn't. The science of another world is indistinguishable from magic." He looked up at her. "Are you going to stand there all night?"

Martha lay next to him. "Well, there's not a lot of room. It's only a single bed you know. Tongues will wag..."

"There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton and I think we'd have spotted that." He turned to stare at Martha, as she stared back. "No, there's something I'm missing, Martha. Something really close, staring me right in the face and I can't see it." He thought for a moment. "Rose'd know. A friend of mine, Rose. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing." He rolled over to face away from her. "Still, can't be helped. You're a novice, never mind. I'll take you back home tomorrow."

"Great." Martha said shortly, and blew the candle out.

* * *

Shakespeare rubbed his aching eyes as the bells rang for 1 o clock. It was odd how long that last page can take when you've decided to finish it before bed.

In his sleep deprived state, he didn't notice Lilith as she gently unlatched the window behind him and blew the vapours of her potion into the room. The moment he sniffed them, he was out like a light.

Lilith lowered herself into the room and waved her hand in front of his face, but he didn't respond. She picked up her doll, complete with a tiny quill in the hand, and began twisting it like a puppet.

"Bind the mind, take the man.

Speed the words to writer's hand."

Shakespeare sat up and groggily resumed writing, but his eyes were unfocused and never looked down at the page. But it was only a few lines and it didn't take long before she released him and he slumped back down on the table.

"Will?" Said Dolly's voice. "I've finished the cleaning. Just in time for your special treat..." She faltered as she saw Lilith there. "Oh. Not the first then."

Lilith spun round, revealing her hideous wrinkled face to the innkeeper, who was momentarily petrified. She snatched the broom off her. "I'll take that to aid my flight. And you'll speak no more this night!"

As Dolly finally processed what she was seeing, she let out a blood curdling scream.

* * *

The Doctor and Martha heard the scream and hurried to investigate. They found Dolly lying dead on the floor, while Shakespeare was blinking back into consciousness. "Did someone scream?"

The Doctor took a look at the body, while Martha hurried to the open window. Outside, she saw, silhouetted against the moon, a figure flying away on a broomstick, cackling evilly.

"Her heart gave out. She died of fright." Said the Doctor.

Martha could sympathise. "Doctor!" She called.

"What is it. What did you see?"

"A witch."

* * *

By the next morning, the body had been removed. Shakespeare was busy consoling himself with a large tankard of ale. "Oh, sweet Dolly Bailey. She sat out three bouts of the plague in this place when we all ran like rats. But what could have scared her so? She had such enormous spirit."

"Rage. Rage against the dying of the light." Said the Doctor.

Shakespeare nodded. "That's good. I might use that."

"You can't. It's someone else's."

"But the thing is." Said Martha. "Lynley drowned on dry land. Dolly died of fright. And they're all connected to you."

Shakespeare raised an eyebrow. "Are you accusing me?"

"No." She said quickly. "But I saw a witch, big as you like. And you've written about witches."

Now Shakespeare looked confused. "I have? When was that?"

"Not quite yet." Said the Doctor.

That only raised further questions. But the woman's words had jogged a memory. "Peter Streete spoke of witches."

"Peter Streete?" Said Martha.

"Our builder. He sketched plans for the Globe

"The architect. Hold on." The Doctor thumped the table. "The architect! The architect! The Globe! Come on!"

* * *

The three of them made their way to the Globe, where the Doctor stood on stage gesturing around. Martha briefly thought he was practicing his method acting, before she realised that he was actually forming a mental picture of the space. She decided not to interrupt, and instead fantasised about standing here, with the crowds cheering. "Friends, Romans, Countrymen. Lend me your ears." She said.

"The women of Freedonia act as well then?" Said Shakespeare.

"The column's there." Said the Doctor. "14 sides. I've always wondered but I've never asked. Tell me Will, why 14?"

"It was the sound Peter thought best. He said it carried the sound well."

The Doctor rubbed his head. "14 though. Why does it ring a bell?"

"There's 14 lines in a sonnet?" Martha offered.

"So there is. Good point." He said, though he still sounded as though he wished Rose could fly in and set him right. "Words and shapes following the same design. Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets. Oh, my head. Tetradecagon. Think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!"

"It's just a theatre." Said Shakespeare.

"Oh yeah, but a theatre's magic, isn't it? You should know. Stand on this stage, say the right words with the right emphasis at the right time. Oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy. Change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. But if you exaggerate that..."

"Like your Police Box." Said Martha. "Small wooden box, with all that power inside."

"Oh, Martha Jones, I like you." He grinned. "Tell you what though. Peter Steele would know. Can I talk to him."

Shakespeare sighed. "You won't get an answer. A month after finishing this place, he lost his mind."

"What happened to him?" Said Martha.

"He started raving about witches. Hearing voices. His mind was addled."

"And where is he now?"

"Bedlam."

"Where's that?" Said Martha.

"Bethlam hospital. The madhouse."

"We're going there right now." Said the Doctor.

"I'm going with you. I want to witness this first hand." Said Shakespeare. As they left, he spotted two actors coming in through the stage door and made his way over to them, handing them some papers. "Ralph, the last scene as promised. Copy it, hand it round, learn it, speak it. Back before curtain up. And remember, kid, project. Eyes and teeth. You never know, the Queen might turn up." As if. She never did. He hurried up to Martha and walked alongside her. "So tell me of this land of Freedonia, where women can be Doctors, writers, actors..."

"This country's run by a woman." Martha said simply.

"Ah, she's royal, that's God's business." Shakespeare grinned. "Though you are a royal beauty."

"Whoa, nelly!" Martha saw what he was getting at. "I know for a fact, you have a wife in the country."

"Yes, but this is the town."

The Doctor looked back to hurry them along. "Come on! There'll be time for flirting later."

"Is that a promise?" Shakespeare grinned at him.

"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air. Now move!"

* * *

" _Love's Labours Won_." Said Burbage. "I don't know about sequels, they're never as good as the original."

"Have you seen this bit?" Kempe showed him. "He must have been dozing off while he wrote it. I can't understand a thing he's saying."

"Nothing new there then." Burbage grinned. "Ah, but at least it's my speech. Ah ha! I get centre stage. The light of Shadmock's hollow moon doth shine onto a point in space betwixt Dravidian shores..." He faltered briefly as a gust of wind blew through the theatre.

"What was that?" Said Kempe.

Burbage decided to press on, although the wind picked up again almost as soon as he spoke. "Dravidian shores linear five nine three oh one six..."

* * *

Back in the coven, the witches had sensed a disturbance in the ether. Doomfinger brought up the image in the cauldron, saying. "Too soon. Too soon."

Lilith had a look. "Not to fear my mothers. It is merely a rehearsal of what's to come."

* * *

"...and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel Four."

The ground shook slightly and a waft of smoke appeared from nowhere. From it emerged a translucent figure. About ten feet tall, black cloaked, with clawed arms and a withered beaky face.

"By all the Saints!" Said Kempe. "It's a spirit. A vile shade!"

The creature looked around briefly, then saw them and lunged for them. But as soon as it moved, its whole being dissolved into smoke, which dispersed as suddenly as it had come.

"I think we should never speak of this again." Said Kempe. "Or else we'll end up in Bedlam ourselves."


	3. Fire Burn And Cauldron Bubble

**Chapter 3: Fire Burn And Cauldron Bubble**

Martha had gotten used to the smell of excrement, which blanketed the time period, but she was still overwhelmed by the smell, coming from the cells of Bedlam. This wasn't a hospital, just a means of keeping the insane out of the way. They were fed and kept, but otherwise left to live in their own filth.

As thy made their way between the cells, a wild-eyed woman lunged at them through the bars. The jailer pulled out a rod and beat her back like a wild animal. "Would you like to be entertained while you wait?" He said to the visitors. "I'd whip these madmen into a frenzy for you. The mad dogs of Bedlam..."

"No I would not." The Doctor said shortly.

The jailer shrugged. "Very well. If you'd like to wait here. I'll just, er, make him decent for the lady."

Martha took a look at the woman he'd beaten back, who had retreated to the corner of her cell and curled into a ball. She wondered just how mad the woman had been before she was thrown in here. She'd certainly be a lot worse now. "So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where people are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"

Shakespeare rolled his eyes. "Oh, it's all so different in Freedonia."

"But you're clever! Do you honestly think this place does any good?"

"I've been mad before. Fear of this place set me straight. It serves its purpose."

"Mad how?"

"You lost your son." Said the Doctor, causing Martha to falter.

Shakespeare nodded. "My only boy. Black death took him. I wasn't even there."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Said Martha.

"It made me question everything. This whole fleeting existence. To be or not to be... Oh that's quite good."

"You should write it down." Said the Doctor.

Shakespeare frowned. "Don't know. A bit pretentious, don't you think?"

"This way, my lords." Called the jailer.

He let them into Peter's cell, where the man was huddled on the floor, like Gollum. "You might wanna be careful. They can be dangerous. Don't know their own strength."

"It helps if you don't whip them!" The Doctor snapped. "Now get out!"

The jailer shrugged and left, locking the door behind him.

The Doctor cautiously made his way up to Peter, who had his back to them. "Peter? Peter Streete. Can you hear me?"

"He's the same as he was." Said Shakespeare. "You'll get nothing out of him."

"Peter?" The Doctor gently placed his hand on the man's shoulder. He looked up, wild eyed.

* * *

Lilith sensed a new disturbance and hurried over to the cauldron to have a look. "That stranger. He was at the inn with Shakespeare. I thought then he smelt of something new."

"Now he visits the madhouse." Said Bloodtide.

They watched as the Doctor placed his hands on the architect's temples "Peter, I'm the Doctor. Go into the past. One year ago. Let your mind go back. Back to when everything was fine and shining." Peter breathed deeply, as some traces of peace came to his eyes. "Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A Winter's Tale. Let go. That's it. That's it, just let go." The Doctor guided him back to the bed. "Tell me the story. Tell me about the witches."

"Who is this Doctor?" Said Lilith. "Why does he come now at our time of glory? Doomfinger, transport yourself. Doom the Doctor. Doom his hide."

* * *

Peter hissed and shook as he spoke. "Witches spoke to Peter. In the night, they whispered. They whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. Their design! The fourteen walls. Always fourteen. When the work was done they... snapped poor Peter's wits."

"And where did Peter see the witches?" Said the Doctor. The Architect whimpered and held his hands over his eyes. "Peter, you have to tell me. Where were they?"

Peter groaned. "All Hallows Street."

"Too many words." Sang a new voice in the Doctor's ear. He turned to see Doomfinger leaning over his shoulder. He promptly leapt away. "Just one touch of the heart." She said.

"No!" Shouted the Doctor, but too late. Doomfinger placed her finger on Peter's chest and the man died instantly, like she'd turned out a light.

"A witch!" Shakespeare gasped. "I'm seeing a witch!"

She turned her finger to point at the others. "Now, who would be next, hmm? Just one touch. Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."

Martha rattled on the bars. "Let us out! Let us out!"

"That's no good. The whole building's shouting that." Said the Doctor.

Martha spun round to face this witch she was trapped with, pressing herself against the bars.

"Who will die first? Hmm?" Said Doomfinger.

"Well, if you're looking for volunteers..." Said the Doctor.

"Don't you dare!" Shouted Martha.

But Shakespeare saw what he was getting at "Doctor, can you stop her?"

Doomfinger laughed. "No mortal has power over me!"

"Oh, there's a power in words. If I can find the right one. If I can just know you..." Said the Doctor.

"No human being knows us!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm here. Let's see. Humanoid female. Uses shapes and words..." He scratched his head. "What else, what else... Oh! 14! The 14 planets of the Rexel Planetary Configuration!" He was pleased to see her cringe at that. "Creature, I name thee! Carrionite!"

The Carrionite screamed as ripples covered her and she phased out of the room.

"What did you just do?" Said Martha.

"I named her. Drove her away with the power of a name. That's old magic."

"But you said there was no such thing as magic." Said Martha.

"It's just a different kind of science." Said the Doctor. "You lot chose science. You lot chose mathematics. Get the right set of numbers together, you can split the atom. They use words instead."

"Words for what?" Said Shakespeare.

"The end of the world."

* * *

Doomfinger materialised back in the coven, gasping for breath. "He knows us! He spoke our name!"

"Then he will know death. He will perish at my hand." Said Lilith. At this point the bells outside tolled seven times. "My mothers, the time approaches. You must away to the Globe. Go. I will join you as soon as this Doctor screams his last."

* * *

Back in his lodgings, Shakespeare splashed water over his face to calm his nerves.

The Doctor was busy explaining more about the Carrionites. "They disappeared at the dawn of the universe. No one knows if they're real or legend."

"Well, I vote real." Said Shakespeare.

"But what do they want?" Said Martha.

"A new empire on Earth. A world of bones and blood and witchcraft."

"But how?"

The Doctor peered at Shakespeare. "I'm looking at the man with the words."

Shakespeare looked startled. "Me? But I haven't done anything."

"Hold on." Said Martha. "What were you doing last night when that Carrionite was in here?"

"What was I doing? Writing the last page of the script."

"What happens at the end?" Said the Doctor.

"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance. It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual. Except..." He paled slightly. "Those last few lines. Trouble is, I don't remember writing them."

"That's it! They used you. They gave you the final words like a spell, like a code. Love's Labours Won. It's a weapon. The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing! And yes, you can have that."

* * *

As the bells tolled 8, Burbage pulled on the last of his King Ferdinand outfit and stepped out of the back doors on to the stage to read the prologue. "We left the lovers of Navarre by cruel chance separated, none to claim his heart, their labours lost. Now will they find Love's Labour's Won?" The crowd applauded. He never tired of applause.

* * *

The Doctor had found a map and jabbed it with his finger. "All Hallows Street. There it is. Martha, we'll track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play."

"I'll do it." Shakespeare grinned. "All this time I've been the cleverest around. Next to you, I'm nothing."

"Oh, don't complain." Said Martha.

"I'm not. It's brilliant! Good luck Doctor."

"Good luck Shakespeare." Said the Doctor. "Once more unto the breech!"

"I might use that." Said Shakespeare. He paused. "Hold on... That's one of mine!"

"Oh just shift!"

* * *

From a private booth in the Globe, with a perception spell diverting the attention of anyone who looked their way, Bloodtide and Doomfinger watched as Ferdinand cradled Custard's head in his lap. "The eye should have contentment where it rests. This spun out year I watch on, groaning sick..."

The crystal ball in Bloodtide's lap squawked expectantly. She tapped the glass. "Have patience my sisters."

"Stop the play!" Shakespeare burst on stage. "I'm sorry, but this play must end!"

"Everyone's a critic." Muttered Kempe.

"I'm sorry. You'll get a refund. But this play must not be performed!"

"The word smith!" Bloodtide gasped.

"Fear not." Said Doomfinger. "I have the doll." She touched the side of the head and Shakespeare collapsed on stage.

"Is he drunk or what?" Said Kempe.

"Get him off stage!" Burbage hissed. As the "girls" carried the bard away, he stood up to address the crowd. "You must forgive our irksome Will. He's been at the beer... and feeling ill!" The crowd laughed and clapped and the play got underway again.

Even Doomfinger clapped along. "There is naught can stop us now."

* * *

The Doctor and Martha had reached All Hallows Street and stood, scanning the buildings around them, wishing Peter had been lucid enough to specify the house.

"Am I missing something though?" Said Martha. "'cos the world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me. I'm living proof."

The Doctor thought for a moment. "How to explain the advanced mechanics of the infinite temporal flux? I know, _Back To The Future_!"

Martha raised an eyebrow. "The film?"

"No, the novelization. Of course the film! That boy, Marty. He goes back and changes things."

"And then he starts to fade." Said Martha, before going wide eyed. "Is that what's going to happen to me?"

"Time is always shifting, and time travelers shift it more. At some point, someone altered events further back, and that's given the witches an opening here, which we have to close. Because human history ends in 1599, unless we can stop them. But which house..."

Right on cue, a door across the street swung open with an ominous creak. "Make that witch house." Said the Doctor.

They stepped through and made their way up the stairs and into the covern, where Lilith was waiting. "I take it we're expected?" He said.

"Oh, I think death has been waiting for you for a very long time." She said casually.

Martha couldn't be bothered with this. "Right then. I think I know how this works. My turn. I name thee! Carrionite!"

Lilith pretended to gasp, then laughed.

"Did I do something wrong? It's the finger isn't it?"

"Power of a name works only once." The Carrionite smiled. "Observe:

I gaze upon this bag of bones,

and now I name you Martha Jones!"

Martha felt a sudden rush of darkness clouding her brain. In the space of a second, she'd collapsed.

The Doctor caught her. "What have you done!"

"Curious, she's only sleeping." Lilith observed. "It's as if she's cut off from her own time. As for you, Sir Doctor!" But that name had no effect whatsoever. "Fascinating. There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh, but look. There's still one word with the power that aches!"

"Naming won't work on me."

"But your heart grows cold. The north wind blows,

And carries down a distant... Rose."

Suddenly angry, the Doctor stood tall over her. "Oh, big mistake. Because that name keeps me fighting! The Carrionites vanished. Where did you go?"

Lilith turned away from him and threw some herbs into the cauldron. On it's surface, the images of Carrionites long ago rippled up, tumbling down and down into a blackness thicker than anything on earth. "The Eternals banished us into deep darkness." She explained.

"And how did you escape?"

"New words. New and glittering. From a mind like no other."

"Shakespeare."

The cauldron shifted, to show an image of the playwright hunched over in his lodgings, looking grief stricken. "His son perished. The grief of a genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance."

"How many of you?"

"Just the three. But the play tonight shall restore the rest. Then the human race will be purged as pestilence. And from this world we will lead the universe back into the old ways of blood and magic" The cauldron now showed the people of London running, screaming, as a huge swarm of Carrionites descended upon them. Some were trying to fight back, but all their weapons seemed to shatter as soon as they raised them to strike. The creatures slaughtering everyone before them.

"Busy schedule." Said the Doctor. "But first, you'll have to get past me."

Lilith grinned. "Oh, that should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a handsome shape." As she spoke, she gently pulled him close and slid her arm round his shoulders.

"Now, that's one type of magic that definitely won't work on me."

"Oh, we'll see." She yanked several of his hairs free and stepped back, waving them at him.

"What did you just do?"

"Souvenir." She shrugged.

With alarm, the Doctor realised what she was planning. "Give them back!" He leapt at her, but she casually flew backwards and out the window, hanging there, just out of his reach. "Now that's just cheating."

"Behold, Doctor. Men to Carrionites are nothing but, puppets." She pulled her doll from her cloak and attached some hairs.

"You may call that magic. I call it a DNA replication module." Said the Doctor.

"What use is your science now?" She said, and jabbed a pin into the heart of the doll. The Doctor screamed and fell.


	4. Blow Wind And Crack Your Cheeks!

**Chapter 4: Blow Wind And Crack Your Cheeks!**

Martha came round, just as Lilith was flying out the window. She saw the Doctor fall and she saw the witch fly away. She hurried over to him. "Hold on, I've got you." She placed an ear to his chest, and smiled. "Hold on mister. Two hearts."

"I could make a habit of this." The Doctor grinned. He sat up, then doubled over in pain. "Ah! Only one heart beating! How do you people cope? Martha, I need you to hit me on the chest!"

Martha swung her fist and whacked the Doctor full force. He winced "Other side."

"Sorry." Said Martha, and struck again.

"Harder!" She hit him again. "On the back!" She hit once more on the back and the Doctor felt that heart restarting. "Badaboomba! Now come on! We've got to stop them!"

* * *

Lilith slid into the Carrionites' box and took her seat between her mothers.

"The Doctor?" Said Doomfinger.

"Dead." Lilith looked down. She was slightly disappointed to see that she'd missed the second act, which she'd thought was quite good.

"The ladies have prepared a show. Maria means to present Isis descending from the dewy orb of Heaven. Ah, here comes Costard." Ferdinand was saying.

Custard emerged from the stage rear, to a cheer from the audience. "masters."

* * *

The Doctor and Martha hurried through the windy streets of London, too fast to even look at what they were trading in. "We're going the wrong way!" Shouted Martha.

"No we're not." Said the Doctor, as he hurried down the road he knew led to the Globe. Seconds later, he hurried back. "We're going the wrong way!"

* * *

Burbage took a deep breath as he prepared for the final speech. He still remembered what had happened the first time he'd read it. But that hadn't happened in later rehearsals, so he'd decided it was a coincidence. "Behold the swainish sight of woman's love. Pish! It's out of season to be heavy disposed..."

"It is now my mothers!" Lilith gasped, as she felt the energy building in the crystal. "The final words to activate the tetradecagon."

"Betwixt Dravidian shores and linear five nine three oh one six seven point oh two, and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel Four. Co-radiating crystal, activate!"

The moment he'd finished speaking, a massive rush of wind filled the theatre, much fiercer than anything they'd felt earlier. In the very centre of the tetradecagon, the air seemed to refract, like a sphere of water were suddenly suspended in mid air.

"The portal opens. It begins." Said Lilith.

Blood red clouds of glowing smoke poured out of the portal, rapidly picked up by the wind and engulfing the crowd in seconds. Cold lightning of all colours cracked around.

The audience rapidly tried to flee, but Lilith held up a hand and the doors slammed and bolted in front of them. Her sisters would be tired and she preferred if they did not need to chase their first victims.

* * *

The Doctor paused at a crossroads and looked around. The trouble was, all these streets looked the same.

"Where now?" Said Martha.

At this point, he saw hordes of people running screaming in the adjacent street. He hurried over to see them fleeing from the red storm column that was growing steadily higher.

The only other person not running was the preacher they'd seen talking about global catastrophe the previous day. He was laughing in delight and shouting to anyone he could. "I told thee! Didn't I tell thee?"

"Come on, stage door!" Shouted the Doctor. He and Martha hurried round the back and into the props stall, where Shakespeare was groggily sitting up. "I told you to stop the play! I think I said. Yes I did, it was very specific. Stop the play!"

"They hit my head." Shakespeare reached up and felt for a lump.

"Don't rub it you'll go bald." Hearing the screams intensify, he hurried for the stage door. "That's my cue."

"Now begins the millennium of blood!" The witches laughed together.

Lilith saw the Doctor come on stage. "The Doctor. He lives. Then watch this world become a blasted heath! They come! They come!" She held the crystal to line up perfectly with the portal and Shadmock's hollow moon. Hordes of Carrionites swarmed out of the crystal like flies, shooting up into the storm and whipping the winds around faster to increase the link.

As Shakespeare backed away, the Doctor grabbed him. "Come on Will! History needs you!"

"But what can I do?" Cried the Bard.

"Reverse it!"

"But how can I do that?"

"The shape of the Globe gives words power, but you're the wordsmith, the one true genius. The only man clever enough to do it!"

"But what words? I have none ready!"

"You're William Shakespeare!"

"But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision..." He looked up at the ever thickening storm.

"Trust yourself. When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they, like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm. Words that last forever. That's what you do, Will. You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise."

Shakespeare took a breath and stepped into centre stage. He looked up at the Carrionites on the balcony and declared.

"Close up this din of hateful, dire decay,

decomposition of your witches' plot!

You thieve my brains, consider me your toy!

My doting Doctor tells me I am not!"

Lilith felt the aether disturbed more fiercely than ever. "No! Words of power!"

Shakespeare pressed on, assuming the speech to reverse the spell would be similar to the one for activating it, he shouted.

"Foul Carrionite spectres, cease your show! Between the points..."

He looked tot he Doctor for inspiration, the Doctor could feel some of the power. Enough to suggest, "Seven, six, one, three, nine, oh!"

"Seven, six, one, three, nine, oh!"

The other Carrionites could tell what was going on by now, and were swarming towards him, though struggling through the storm. Knowing he had to conclude soon, he shouted:

"Banished like a tinker's cuss,

I say to thee..."

Again, he looked to the Doctor. At a loss for ideas, he looked at Martha, who shouted out the first thing that came into her head. "Expelliamus!"

"Expelliamus!" The Doctor nodded.

"Expelliamus!"

"Good old JK!" The Doctor laughed.

The wind rapidly picked up at this point, except now, it was rushing back towards the portal, carrying witches and smoke alike with it. A whole horde of black cloaks gathered in a rapidly shrinking clump around the centre of the Globe. Behind them, the doors burst open, and a flurry of script pages flew out, carried upwards to join the storm. _Love's labours Won_ was being drawn away with the rest of their magic. In a minute, they had all vanished.

The audience stood stunned for a few moments. Then a few of them started clapping, rapidly joined by the rest.

The Doctor, at this point, noticed that the Carrionites' box was seemingly empty and hurried up to investigate.

Martha, meanwhile was taking a look at the cheering crowd. "Do they think it was all special effects?"

"Your effect is special indeed." Shakespeare grinned.

"Not your best line." Martha grinned back, taking his hand and bowing for the audience. She thought she overheard someone at the front saying to her friend, "His costume's very good."

The Doctor pulled open the curtains and looked around the box for any sign of Carrionites hiding behind the bench. But there were none. All he found was the crystal. Holding it up, he saw Lilith, Doomfinger and Bloodtide encased inside, banging soundlessly on the surface. Lilith pointed at him and uttered some curse, but she had no power any more.

* * *

The next day, the Doctor was busy searching every nook and cranny of the Globe for anything the witches might have left behind, having already cleared out their coven. Martha and Shakespeare, meanwhile were having a last chat on the stage.

"So I said, a heart for a heart and a deer for a deer." Shakespeare laughed at his own joke.

"I don't get it." Said Martha.

"Well tell me a joke from Freedonia then."

Martha thought for a moment. "Shakespeare walks into a bar. And the barman says "Oy mate! You're bard!""

Shakespeare laughed. "Doesn't make sense, but still. Now come here." He took her hand.

"I've just met you!" Said Martha.

"The Doctor may never kiss you. Now why not entertain a man who will." He smiled.

Martha could tell he was at least making an effort when it came to chatting her up. She tried to think of the politest way to say no. "I don't know how to tell you this, oh great genius, but your breath doesn't half stink."

Shakespeare frowned for a moment, before chuckling and backing off.

At this point, the Doctor emerged, carrying the crystal in one hand and a horse skull in another. He'd also placed a ruff around his shoulders. "Nice prop stall back there. Not sure about this skull though. Reminds me of a Sycorax."

"Sycorax. I'll have that off you too." Said Shakespeare.

"I should be on 10 percent. How's the neck."

"Still a bit sore." Said Shakespeare. He'd bent it over when he'd fallen on the stage.

"Here, try this." The doctor pulled the ruff off his shoulders and fixed it round the Bard's neck, where it fitted nicely under his chin. "Neck brace. Though, you might want to keep it. It suits you."

"What about the play?" Said Martha.

"Gone. I checked. Every last copy."

"My lost masterpiece." Shakespeare sighed.

"You could rewrite it." Suggested Martha.

"Better not Will. There may still be some power in those words." Said the Doctor, which the playwright agreed with.

"Oh, but I've got new ideas. Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons, in memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet."

Martha's eyes widened. "Hamnet?"

"That's him."

"Hamnet!"

Shakespeare frowned. "What's wrong with that?"

"Anyway..." The Doctor cut in before she could say something careless. "Time we were off. I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS, where this lot can scream for all eternity," he waved the crystal, which the Carrionites were still trapped in, "and I've got to take Martha back to Freedonia."

"You mean travel on through time and space?" Shakespeare grinned.

"You what?" Said the Doctor, for once, genuinely stunned.

"You're from another world like the Carrionites, and Martha is from the future. It's not hard to work out."

"That is incredible. You are incredible."

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha, let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady." Said Shakespeare, as the Doctor, nodded at her, knowingly. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate..."

"Will!" Burbage interrupted.

"You'll never believe it, she's actualy here!" Kempe cried, as they hurried through the street door.

"We're the talk of the town. She heard about last night. She wants us to perform it again."

"Who?" Said Martha.

"Her Majesty. The Queen. She's here." Said Kempe.

Through the door behind them, a woman emerged in regal robes, flanked by two halberdeers. She was getting old and frail by this point, and the lead face powder she'd used had had a terrible effect on her skin, but she still maintained an air of nobility about her.

"Queen Elizabeth the First!" The Doctor laughed.

To his surprise, she looked up at him with an expression of seething hatred. "Doctor!"

"What?"

"My sworn enemy!"

"What?"

"Off with his head!"

"What!"

"Never mind what, run!" Martha grabbed hit arm as the guards hurried forward.

The two of them rapidly excited, perused by soldiers, as Shakespeare just sat laughing. All the world really could be as exciting as one of his plays. Life, it seemed, was the longest, most thrilling story ever written.

* * *

The Doctor and Martha hurried through the narrow streets of London, while the soldiers called for them to stop. Fortunately, the passers by were apathetic enough not to try and stop them.

"What did you do to annoy her?" Cried Martha.

"How should I know? Haven't even met her yet. That's time travel for you. Still, can't wait to find out." They reached the TARDIS at this point and Martha hurried inside. The Doctor paused at the door, grinning. "That's something to look forward to."

Behind him, the guards had dropped their halberds and pulled longbows from their shoulders, rapidly taking aim. The Doctor beat a hasty retreat, dematerialising just as an arrow thudded into the door.

 **Next Time: Into The Dalek**


End file.
